


Ten Dollar Bet

by copperbadge



Category: House M.D.
Genre: LiveJournal, M/M, Smoking, politically incorrect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-23
Updated: 2006-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone thinks there's hanky panky going on at the hospital. An investigative team...investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Dollar Bet

_Subject: The Important Thing To Remember Is That I Won Ten Dollars_   
_Posted By: i_blues_joo_   
_Music: Bobby Bland - St. James Infirmary_

"Him or her?"

"Him. Has to be him."

"Why? She's clearly a reckless driver and she has horrible allergies."

"He's morbidly obese and smoking a cigarette. And he's eating a chili dog. And he's male. He'll drop before she wraps her car around a tree."

"Maybe he's trying to be better! Look, he has a gym bag. I bet that's the one chili dog and cigarette a month that he allows himself."

"It's a cover so that people like you will say he's trying to improve himself. Nobody actually goes to the gym."

"I go to the gym."

"You're a freak of nature. Listen, we aren't a country more concerned about our health because of some obesity epidemic the government invented to distract the media. We've just become a nation of fat gym-bag carriers. He hasn't even got a water bottle in the little water bottle pocket."

"Maybe he keeps it inside."

"HA! Look at that, he picked it up, it's clearly empty. Pay up."

"You can't -- fine. Here."

"There's another dollar towards my house in the Hamptons fund. What?"

"Hamptons? You live in New Jersey. How are you planning to get to work?"

"I'll telecommute. Nobody actually needs me to be present."

"If you do, your ducklings won't get anything done."

"That's true. Are you _smoking_ again?"

"Which'll kill you faster, cigarette smoke or painkillers?"

"Let's do a study! Fine, next round. Him or...him?"

It was at this point that The Witch descended on our outdoor table and ruined our lunch. Oh, shut up, you know I have to change the names. Herself said so, to keep me from being sued if anyone finds this thing. If I'm going to be sued, it's going to be for malpractice, dammit. 

"You two together. That can't be good," she said. 

"Plotting your demise," I answered. Well, we would have gotten around to that sooner or later.

"Funny."

"We're playing Who's Going To Die First," Watson explained. "Him or him?"

"What?" asked The Witch. She got that Jewish Mother look. You know the one. "But he's a drug dealer, obviously, and he's a businessman -- I'm not getting pulled into your games," she interrupted herself. "I need to talk to both of you, so eat up so that you can't interrupt me while your mouth is full."

"What about?" Watson asked, with that strained look he gets whenever he encounters an authority figure.

"Well...there have been some allegations," she said. Watson looked at me. "Of...sexual impropriety. From the staff." Watson looked suddenly nervous. 

"Man, you can't even pinch a nurse's ass anymore without someone getting on your case. That's why I _became_ a doctor," I complained. Then I had a thought. "Wait. Don't say anything else yet." I turned to Watson. "Five dollars says it's me."

"It's taking your money," he said, but he looked even more strained. "You're on."

"It's you," she said to me. I reached for my wallet. "And you," she added to Watson. Things began to look interesting. At last.

"Both of us?" Watson asked.

"Listen, I had to promise I'd have a word with both of you even though these are clearly stupid allegations, and _shut up, Holmes_ ," she said as I opened my mouth.

"What, has someone said we're...tag teaming the bottom-pinching?" Watson supplied for me. What a good boy he is. 

"No. It concerns the fact that someone saw you," she said, pointing at me, "Climbing out a window and into _your_ office," pointing at Watson, "and afterwards heard...noises."

"I do that all the time," I said.

"I know you make noises all the time," she retorted. She gets quicker when you piss her off. 

"I meant climbing into his window. It's a thing. Keeps me fit!"

"They said they heard, and I quote, shouts and moans. They think you two are having sex together on hospital property."

"Sex together...with someone else?" Watson asked, looking confused.

"No. Just...sex together. The complaint is pretty specious, but I think they want to give the impression that gay sex amongst the doctors is disapproved of. I think they heard your little remark about it a few weeks back," she added to me. "Not that they didn't hear that in Pennsylvania, of course..."

"When was the last time you climbed into my office?" Watson asked me, trying to recall.

"Olympics," I said. 

"Right! Yeah, we had the tape of the snowboarding. There was some groaning at the losers," Watson said to The Witch. 

"You two were sneaking around...watching extreme Olympics?" she asked. She got that other Jewish Mother look. You still know the one. 

"Well...yeah," I said. "Doesn't everyone sometimes slip away from the wife for a few hours to catch some awesome 'boarding?"

She sighed. "Watson, I'm going to soundproof your damn office."

"We'll keep it down," he said.

"Except when my show is on!" I added. 

"Don't sneak into his office to watch General Hospital. Don't sneak into his office at all," commanded Her Witchness. "And try to keep the remarks about gay sex to a minimum, all right?"

I rolled my eyes. Watson agreed like a good schoolboy. She left. 

We sat there for a while. I took a pill. Shut up, _shut up._ You should be grateful I keep track of how many I take in this thing, and don't think I don't know about that Reduce the Pill brigade my readership has going. 

"Wow. So we're having gay sex. Is it good?" he asked me.

"You heard her. Shouts and moans. Clearly I'm making you scream."

"Could be me making you scream."

"You know you're the screamer. And the bottom."

"I don't know, Holmes, you're not exactly top material."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"I bet if you were going to have gay sex you'd be the toppiest _bottom_ the world has ever seen."

"You're on."

He blinked at me. I love making him blink at me. He gets this great open-mouthed look and sputters. Nobody sputters like Watson.

"What?"

"You're on," I said. "Ten dollars says when we get naked and sweaty you're the one begging to have me inside you. I bet you use those exact words."

He actually started blushing, which is embarrassing on a pale guy like him because his cheeks get all red and it's really obvious. He muttered something.

"Sorry, what was that? It's my game ear," I said. "I got it pulling my brother out of an ice pool when I was ten -- "

"I said I bet we would switch and I'd be okay with that, all right?" he said defiantly. Spirit! Pluck! Guts!

We sat around for a while longer. He ordered a Long Island. I called in and took the rest of the day off. Chick Duckling had a fit. Black Duckling probably had constipation. Pretty Duckling said it was fine. Watson called in and said he had food poisoning. He drank the whole Long Island in about five minutes flat.

"Your wife's at your place," I said. "Mine's pretty clean."

We had an awesome afternoon watching an old Xgames tape. 

I won ten dollars.


End file.
